


The Agent

by o0aurora0o (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Child Murder, Civil War doesnt happen, Dark, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Steve Rogers, Kidnapping, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, You Have Been Warned, but he was faking it, seriously this is very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/o0aurora0o
Summary: After the events of The Winter Soldier take place, Steve Rogers is sent on an assignment to infiltrate what is left of Hydra - on the inside. No one knew about the Agent. She had no files, no backstory, only one purpose; to serve Hydra. When Steve destroys the remains of Hydra, the Agent is taken into custody, and she plays a bigger role in the team than everybody thought.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

Then 

* * *

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

The man stood stoically, with Rumlow stood behind him and Rollins behind her. Standing guard. She was a threat. One wrong move and she’d have a needle in her arm and a shock baton to her throat. 

Her opponent was bigger than her. She was unsure if he was stronger than her. If he could beat the Soldier, then he would be a good match for her. He was dressed in Hydra’s standard training gear; black Kevlar pants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt, as well as a pair of heavy boots. She was at a disadvantage, then. Wearing similar Kevlar pants and the same long-sleeved shirt, but she wasn’t assigned any boots. Her kicks would leave less of an impact, but she would be quicker on her feet. 

She glanced behind and saw that Rumlow had his hand over his holster. He shifted when their eyes met briefly; nervous, it seemed. 

Her opponent studied her oddly still composure, adjusting his stance so his feet were shoulder-width apart. His shoulders weren’t hunched defensively, nor were his hips twisted in a way that would keep his balance should she attack. She knew he was reading her, figuring out her strategy. Her next move. 

Her own stance was similar; feet shoulder-width apart and hands by her sides, but unlike her opponent’s clenched fists, her palms were flat against her thighs. Gaze burning into his. 

His eyes flickered away to her hands, back to her face, he ran his thumb over the edge of his finger. 

And then he lunged forward. 

Her forearm swung up to block the punch coming her way, only to realize it was a feint as she swiftly hindered the other hit aimed for her shoulder, grabbing tightly onto his wrist. 

They stared at each other for a moment, the man’s eyes wide and mouth slightly gaped, unmoving. She took the initiative and flung her head forward, but he saw it coming and dodged the headbutt. He landed a kick on the back of her knee and she collapsed on one leg, grunting, her grip on his hand weakening. 

He ripped his arm from her grasp and spun around in a roundhouse kick aimed for her hip. She swayed at the momentum, but managed to trap his leg between her arm and waist. Using his force, she kicked herself up and spun around, leg high in the air, practically flipping upside-down, and hooked the back of her knee around his neck and knocked him to the ground with a loud _thud_. 

Her thigh pressed against his windpipe. She adjusted her weight so she wouldn’t choke him, but kept her weight on him heavy enough to let him know she could. 

Her opponent was smart, she knew. With one arm trapped under her other leg and the other being held down by her hand, pressing his body firmly on the ground, he knew there was no winning. His legs were free but he couldn’t do anything from his angle. 

He attempted to buck his hips to throw her off, but she didn’t shift; she tightened her hold on him. He lifted a leg to kick her in the back, but her weight being balanced over his body meant she couldn’t be thrown off if he tried. 

He kicked the ground 3 times. 

“At ease,” Rollins’ gruff voice called out. 

She ceased her hold on her opponent and abruptly stood, moving a few feet back with her hands clasped behind her back. Her opponent held a hand against his chest in an attempt to catch his breath, and then stood. 

“Good work,” Rollins commented, smirking cockily as he watched the man crawl to stand. “Really laid one out on him, huh.” He patted the man’s shoulder once he was close enough, shaking it in a friendly manner. “Don’t feel too bad, Cap. It’s your first fight, s’gonna be easier for her to beat your ass.” 

His chuckle echoed through her ears. 

* * *

Now

* * *

Sat in the meeting room with Natasha on his left and Sam on his right, Steve felt secure, for the first time in a long time. He hadn't seen his friends in months, bordering half a year, and he was glad Nat and Sam were the first to greet him at the new SHIELD headquarters. They could read Steve better than anybody else on the team. 

The building they were in was covert, and it seemed like a regular office even if was practically in the middle of nowhere. Steve knew the rest of the team were at the Tower and he was itching to get back and see everyone. He never thought he'd miss Clint's stupidity and Tony's snark so much, but he did. 

“We’ve gone through your report,” Fury said, flicking through the over 100-page document that detailed Steve’s time acting as a Hydra agent. It was a nightmare to get through, but with the help of SHIELD’s AI – which was basically a microwave compared to Jarvis – he managed to get it all done in two nights. “We just need to confirm a few details.” 

Steve nodded. “Of course, sir.” 

“You never saw the Asset during your time there. He’s officially missing, correct?” 

“Yes, sir,” Steve confirmed, resisting the urge to narrow his eyes at the Director. 

“And you never officially became the Agent’s handler?” Fury questioned, staring at him over the document. 

“Not officially, no,” Steve answered. “Rollins was her handler in the duration I was there. Rumlow before Pierce died. I had the majority of handler’s duties, but Rollins took care of the important things.” 

“Do you think there’s any way you could influence the Agent in the way her handlers could?” he asked, and Steve raised his eyebrows. 

“I wouldn’t try to if I could, Director,” Steve said as evenly as possible. 

“She won’t talk if you don’t try, Captain,” Fury pointed out calmly, closing the document and placing it on the table. “You’ve mentioned the torture she’s endured. If she’s been a part of Hydra as long as Barnes, then nothing of the sort is going to get her to fess up. You getting it out of her in a peaceful manner just might.” 

“Your first resort is torture?” Sam decided to cut in, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “God,” he muttered with a shake of the head, “poor girl’s been through Hydra, only to come back to Hydra 2.0.” 

“Squeezing every last drop about Hydra from this _assassin_ is my priority,” Fury stated slowly, leaning forward with both hands braced on the table. “This _poor girl_ has more confirmed kills than the Winter Soldier. She has murdered hundreds; innocents, _children_. She’s killed too many of my agents for us to go soft.” 

“She was under Hydra’s influence,” Natasha said, her gaze focused on her fingers that tapped the edge of the table. ”Just like Barnes was. Like I was.” She looked up, meeting the Director’s eye and raised her voice. “Sam’s right. If we can’t be better than Hydra-” 

“We need to know what she knows,” Fury said lowly. “No matter the cost.” 

“Cost,” Sam echoed. “SHIELD isn’t what it used to be, man. We can’t keep this under lock-and-key and expect to come out as the better guys.” 

“I don’t care about being the better man, Wilson.” 

“I would have been inclined to agree with you a year ago, Nick, but not now,” Natasha said. “SHIELD isn’t what it used to be.” 

They continued bickering, mostly between Sam and Fury, with Natasha chiming in to back Sam up. Their voices drilled through his ears, reverberating around his skull in an achy headache. He wanted nothing more than to be buried beneath the soft cotton sheets of his bed back at the Tower, lay his head on his pillow and close his eyes, even if he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The cots at Hydra weren’t comforting, nor homely, but Steve supposed that was the point. Made it easier to get out, get his job done. 

Steve’s attention snapped back to the room when Sam almost surged forward in his seat, clearly angry at something the Director said, so Steve took the moment to speak up. 

“I just got back,” he said, holding back rubbing his eyes. It had been a while since he last felt this physically exhausted. Maybe even since the serum. “Can we continue this conversation tomorrow, at the Tower? I’ll pull my thoughts together, so we can find a way through this without fighting.” 

It didn’t look like Fury wanted to oblige, but he nodded regardless, setting whatever words he wanted to yell at Sam aside. “Of course, Captain. Get Stark to set it up.” His eye softened somewhat, as he stared down at Steve. “It’s good to have you back.” 

Steve nodded with a short smile, and with Sam and Natasha at his side, they left. 

Natasha drove them to the Tower wordlessly, Steve in the passenger seat while Sam sat in the back of the Jeep. She parked in the private car park of the Tower that only the team and a few select others had access to. 

“Need help with the bags?” Sam asked after they slammed their doors shut. 

“No bags,” Steve answered quietly with a shake of his head. “Burned everything as soon as I left.” 

Sam nodded. Steve knew he understood; even if he hadn’t experienced what Steve had, he always found a way to just get it. The first time they met, Sam read him like an open book, and nothing has changed since. 

“Do you want me to get the others to back off?” Natasha asked. 

“No,” Steve replied softly. “I'd like to see everyone.” 

Apparently that was what Natasha wanted to hear, because she smiled warmly and ran her palm over his shoulder, before hooking her arm through the crook of his elbow. Steve tried not to lean into the contact. He hadn’t had a gentle touch since... well, since Steve broke down about Bucky and Sam helped him through it. Before he joined Hydra. 

Steve wanted to cry with happiness when the first sound he heard as the elevator ascended, thanks to his hearing, was Clint and Tony bickering. Natasha released her hold on Steve as they stepped out, and neither Tony nor Clint noticed them, so Steve caught onto the tail end of their argument. 

“You can’t just hope that they’ll cook like that, Clint!” 

“But is my logic flawed?” 

“Yes. Absolutely.” 

“How? How does-” 

“I swear to-” 

“- cooking them at a higher temperature _not_ make them cook quicker? It’s basic science, dude!” 

“I graduated MIT at 15, I’d like to remind you.” 

“MIT is about tech crap, not cooking!” 

“Oh, my- I am _so_ calling Bruce-” 

“Stark-” 

“- right now!” 

“Tony!” Clint practically yelled, smacking the man upside the head and pointing dramatically at their new guests, now basically in the kitchen. “Cap!” He directed his point directly onto Steve, now stood several feet away from the pair. Tony turned, rolling his eyes for only Steve to see, and he smiled brightly in return. “Tell this heathen that-” 

“Clint, cooking at a higher temperature does not make the food cook faster,” Steve said, not even attempting to hold back his laughter. “I’ve been gone for, what, 5 months? And you’re already trying to kill yourself?” 

Clint grinned, squinted, chewed his upper lip, contemplating, and abruptly dived over the counter to wrap Steve in a gigantic, constricting, bear-hug. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his nose into the crook of Clint’s neck to stop the tears from falling. His hands felt so nice against his back; the press of his chest against his was comforting. It felt so good. 

Clint didn’t seem to mind the fact that Steve was hugging him back a bit too tightly, clinging onto the shirt of his back with a bit too much desperation. He had to force himself to detach from the embrace before he collapsed completely into his arms. 

“You know we’d never survive without you, Cap.” Clint smiled again, closed-lipped this time, and patted him on his biceps. “God, I’ve missed your arms.” 

“Now you can stop poking mine,” Sam spoke up. 

“Your arms could never compare to Steve’s, Sammy-boy,” Clint retorted with a wide smirk. Sam just rolled his eyes. 

“Where’s Thor?” Steve asked, before they could continue. “And Bruce?” 

“Thor’s in Asgard, Brucie’s sleeping in his lab,” Tony answered. “Good to have you back, Cap.” Somehow, his words made Steve feel lighter than when they came from Fury. Steve was grateful he didn’t try to hug him, either, because he might have completely broken down in his arms. “Actually, it’s a good thing most of us here. I’ve gotta talk to all of you.” 

“I think Steve needs to rest, Tony,” Natasha cut in. 

“It’s important and I’ll keep it short,” Tony said. “Super short. Not even 2 minutes. I swear I’d be bringing it up tomorrow if it wasn’t important. And I don't want Nicholas to hear this.” 

That’s how the five ended up sat around the kitchen counter; Tony and Natasha on one side, with Clint, Steve and Natasha on the other, all nursing cups of tea. Even Clint, but Steve had to convince him to switch his black coffee for tea. ‘ _Goddamn you and your adorable eyes_ ’. 

Clint had his fingers wrapped loosely around Steve’s wrist, his thumb rubbing gently against the thin inner skin. Clint had always been the most touchy-feely out of the team, besides from Thor, maybe. He was never afraid to seek comfort after hard missions, finding someone to snuggle up with or hold hands with on the couch. It was usually Natasha, but Steve often found himself to be a candidate. The lack of awkwardness made it easy for Steve to seek comfort from him, too, although it took a while for him to get used to. It was never full-blown cuddles on the couch, but like Clint was doing now. A simple touch. 

“Sam told me about the conversation you just had with Fury,” Tony started. Steve sent Sam a sideways glance, and he shrugged in response. “Fury has this Agent in custody, he’s threatening to torture her to get intel, right?” 

“He didn’t say explicitly, but definitely implied,” Sam grumbled. 

“Well, I have a case.” Tony clapped his hands together. “I can get the Agent out of Fury’s grasp and under our protection.” 

“What?” Steve practically spluttered. 

“Uhhh,” Clint said, “are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“Of course it is,” Sam defended. “She’ll have her ass handed to her in there. Are you kidding me?” 

“Stark,” Natasha interjected, a furrow between her brows. “Nick won’t give her up, no matter what. You know he won’t.” 

“He will, if we get lawyers involved,” Tony said with a self-satisfied smile, turning his eyes to Steve. “Fury signed your report, right?” Steve nodded, feeling lost. Clint flexed his fingers tightly around his wrist when he noticed Steve’s tenseness. He wasn’t sure if it was to ground him or comfort him, but it made him slump into the back of the stool. “Well, looks like Director dearest signed an official document that states you were sent out on an Avengers mission, not a SHIELD one.” 

Steve frowned. “So, the Avengers have custody over the Agent?” he asked. “Not SHIELD?” 

“Yup,” Tony confirmed. “Plus, SHIELD technically doesn’t technically exist as an official government branch, so his politician buddies won’t be able to back him up.” 

“And it’ll look bad to the public if he tries to fight it,” Natasha added, humming in contentment. 

“And then?” Clint asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do we do with her here? Lock her up like SHIELD and leave her to it?” 

“The old Hulk room,” Tony supplied. “It’ll hold her temporarily until we find a way to help her.” 

“You mean get rid of the brainwashing?” Natasha questioned. “Tony-” 

“Nope. Zip.” Tony cut her off with a slicing motion. “I’m setting up appointments with Pym and Shuri to figure this out. I’ll have a one-to-one with Fury tomorrow, you,” he gestured vaguely to Steve, “are having a week off, you’re staying out of this, no fighting me on this. I’ll send every suit I own your way to pin you down before you even think about getting involved in this.” 

Steve had opened his mouth to argue, but elected against it. Tony had his own way of showing he cared, just the little things like forcing his teammates on bedrest after being injured, or having breakfast pre-prepared after knowing someone had been having a bad night (even if he always claimed it was Jarvis). He even got Thor to sit on Clint once when the man tried getting up to get coffee with a broken leg. 

Steve thanked him softly, and Tony, of course, waved it off and declared that he was going to sleep. Everybody else agreed with the sentiment and clambered up, all headed to the elevator to return to their respective floors. 

“Hey,” Clint said quietly, removing his fingers from Steve’s wrist. “If you need some company tonight...” 

“I’ll be okay,” Steve said softly. “Thank you, though.” 

“No probs, Cap.” He saluted and they headed for the elevator. 

Later that night, around 5 a.m., Steve was laying on his back on the bed, one arm pillowing his head and the other resting over his stomach. 

“Jarvis?” Steve murmured. 

“ _Yes, Captain?_ ” the AI responded. “ _Do you require assistance?_ ” 

Steve smiled and closed his eyes, relaxing back into the sheets. “No. It’s nothing.” 

There were a few beats of silence. 

“ _If I may_ ,” Jarvis said, “ _it’s nice to have you back. I’ve missed the team’s voice of reason_.” 

“Missed you, too, J.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Then

* * *

She was naked, and alone. Stood in the shower stall, her hands trembled as they tightly gripped the edges of the stall, fingers curling over the top. She was shaking. 

Blood rolled down her back with the heavy stream of freezing water. Looking down, she could see her blood tinting the water red; not a soft pink. It kept coming, rolling down her body from the gashes on her back, across her shoulders. Her handler went deeper than he ever had before. It was to prove a point, she knew, to not embarrass him in front of the new recruit. 

She broke orders. So, she suffered the consequences. 

It wasn’t the pain that was making her entire body heave with shakes, no. Pain she knew well. It was familiar, yes. 

No. 

It was because her handler didn’t console her afterwards. Didn’t try to comfort her in any way, not even a hand at the nape of her neck to let her know it would be okay, that her punishment was over and all was forgiven. He told her to leave and clean up. So, she did. 

She resisted breaking down and crying as she stripped from her remaining clothes and allowed her body to be engulfed by the cold stream. She resisted the urge now, just thinking about it. 

Instead of thinking, she rolled her shoulders and welcomed the pain of her cuts stretching open, tearing. Fresh waves of blood poured down her skin. 

“Don’t do that,” a firm voice spoke from behind her. 

The Agent resisted freezing, instead removing her hands from the stall to fist them by her sides. She squeezed her eyes shut; he wouldn’t see it. It would be okay. 

“Get out of the shower,” the same voice demanded. “Turn off the water and dry off.” 

She did as she was told, stepping away from the stream of water and turning the dial so it ceased. Avoiding the eyes of the man behind her, she turned and grabbed a fistful of the towel and wrapped it around her body, keeping her head bowed. 

The Captain sighed. “Can you- I just- Can you turn around and step forward for me,” he stumbled over his words. 

Despite his clear discomfort, she took a few steps forward and then turned, forcing her breaths to come out even. Water dripped through her short wet hair, leaving droplets to roll down the side of her neck, and then her collarbone. The towel was damp, and she could feel where it was wetter from where blood soaked through. 

She heard the Captain shift behind her awkwardly, before a tentative hand was placed on her shoulder, above the highest lash. His thumb rubbed next to the cut, skin catching some of the blood that was beginning to cease its flow. No doubt the man was watching her wounds begin to scab over already. 

His hand moved lower, under her shoulder blade. 

“Not here,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. He couldn’t see her face; he couldn’t see her weak. 

“Huh?” 

“You can’t do it here,” she explained, eyes still pressed firmly shut. “My handler prefers his own quarters so there is less risk of being caught and forced to relocate.” The man didn’t say anything, but his hand was still resting on her bare damp skin. “My quarters are closer, if that would be easier for you.” 

More silence. 

“Why would I- no, I don’t...” the Captain fumbled, removing his hand from her body. She could feel the heat of his palm hovering over her. “No, that’s not. That’s not what I want. I just want to help you heal up faster. I figured it would be easier to do here. Easier clean-up, with the showers.” 

The Agent’s lips parted to release a soft _‘oh’_ , but she replaced it with a simple, “Yes, sir.” 

She ended up sat on a nearby bench, cross-legged with a towel underneath her so she didn’t have to sit on the cold wood. The Captain was clearly uncomfortable with her nudity, so she found another towel and let it pool around her waist, covering herself. 

He knelt on the bench behind her, and with a gentle hand, cleaned her cuts. 

* * *

Now

* * *

The Agent was still, as she always was. 

Locked in a glass cage, strapped to a metal chair with metal shackles constricting her movement, she had her eyes set forward. Her head was tipped back against the hard headrest, throat being restrained by a thick collar that had blunt spikes digging into the delicate skin, which she knew right away could send an electric shock through her body. 

She kept her breathing even, heartbeat steady. She couldn’t panic right now, not without risking something happening. The men guarding her were on edge; it wasn’t difficult to detect the way their fingers itched over the triggers of their guns and how their eyes constantly flickered to the caged woman. 

There were 4 men on the inside. 2 on each side of the entrance and the remaining in the corners of the room behind her glass cage. If she tilted her head the correct way, she could see them in the reflection of the glass. There were more men on the outside, armed with heavy weaponry. Every 3 hours, they swapped shifts. There were 12 men in total. 8 were on the outside. They assumed she was going to successfully escape, even if it was only out of the room. 

3 days. 

3 days since her handler took her from Hydra. 

In those 3 days, she hadn’t seen her handler, nor had she seen anybody else other than the guards. Once a day, the same guard opened the glass door and fed her blended foods through a plastic straw, before giving the same treatment with water. She never attempted to lunge and escape, or to hurt anyone. She stayed still. It unnerved the men, and despite her lack of movement, they never relaxed in her presence. 

They had her on a catheter, rather than release her from the cage and risk any attempt of escape happening. The catheter made her body constantly throb and ache from where it was inserted through her abdomen, but she never let it show. She couldn’t. So, she dealt with it. 

Time moved on quickly, and after a week, things changed. 

She hadn’t slept since arriving, hadn’t even tried to. They had square grey pads that were almost soft to the touch attached to her inner wrists, temples and above each breast. Because of the wires coming out of each pad and attaching themselves to something behind her chair, she guessed it was to monitor her vitals. She could some sometimes faux Hydra into thinking she was unconscious, but their equipment was not as advanced as these.

Somewhere in the dead of night, she noticed when the guards abruptly left the room. An order through their comms, was the likely case, but it didn’t cease her discomfort. 

A minute passed and nothing happened. 

5 minutes passed and still, nothing happened. 

She hit the 10-minute mark in her head when the bolted door opened, the hinges silent under the weight. A familiar man walked in; Nick Fury, she recognized almost immediately. If not for the eye-patch, it was the billowing black coat he always wore. She recalled Pierce mocking him for the look years ago, when the two first started their partnership. She remembered him being the Soldier's mission, a few days before he disappeared.

The man didn’t have any guards flocking him, but the hidden weapons were obvious. His arm hanging limply by his side meant a waist holster, and he probably had some knives stashed in his boots or up his sleeves. There was a thigh holster, where a simple pistol was being held, in plain sight. 

He stepped close to the glass, closer than any guard had voluntarily so far, with his hands linked behind his back. He was almost nose-to-nose with the cage. If not for the restraints and the glass barricading her from him, she could have easily reached out and snapped the man’s neck. 

“Agent,” he greeted, not warm nor cold. Like he was talking to one of his men. “You’re being transferred.” He waited for a reaction, but she provided none. She kept her gaze drilled into his, and his into hers. Neither backed down. “They'll arrive any minute now to collect you. I’m going to give you that opportunity to tell me whatever you want. About Hydra, about Pierce, Rumlow.” He paused for effect. “Rollins.” His eye flickered across her face and body momentarily, expecting some kind of response. “These people will say they’ll help you, but they won’t. They can’t, can they? I think you know more about Hydra than the Asset ever could.” The Agent wanted to jerk at that name, pull against her bonds. Her jaw twitched and lip tightened. The man gave a small smile. 

“Yeah,” he continued, humming, “I think you know far more than you’re letting on. I’m sure you could take down Hydra single-handedly with everything you know. I have no doubt that you are more dangerous than anything they’ve ever made.” 

Still, the woman stared at him, offering nothing to confirm or deny his words. His nose twitched, lips curling in a scowl, dissatisfied with the interaction. 

She couldn’t trust him. He wasn’t Hydra. 

He must have heard something in his comm, because his eyes unfocused from her face for a moment. “Looks like they’re early,” he muttered. His eyes locked back onto hers. “I’m not letting you off, Agent. And neither will--"

His words cut out before he could get his last word out, and the glass surrounding her turned black. Her fists clenched beneath the restraints and she felt a tingle on her neck; a warning. She relaxed her hands, closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a firm line, taking deep breaths. 

She could survive this. 

* * *

The old Hulk room was more for Bruce than his angry counterpart. For when Bruce was feeling a Code Green beginning to surface, he’d lock himself in there and calm down, but the Hulk managed to force himself out, regardless. After weeks of testing and property damage, they – and by _they_ , Steve meant Bruce and Tony – figured out that the Hulk was pretty much his own separate personality. So, Tony created a Hulk-friendly room with high walls, a TV that would play cartoons, and gigantic toys that he could play with. He very much resembled a toddler, but a huge deadly one that could crush anybody on the team. Besides Thor. Maybe. 

So, they had this Banner-friendly room spare. 

The walls were fully glass from floor to ceiling, and the room itself was long and rectangular. On one of the smaller walls, behind a thick cover of glass, was a television, the top almost touching the ceiling. Under the TV was a built-in shelf where a few books were sat, something Tony insisted on keeping for the Agent. ‘ _She might be a literary genius, Cap_ ’. Steve knew she wasn't, but he thought the sentiment was nice.

On the other end of the room was a bed that was attached to the wall and floors so it couldn’t be ripped off, with a few pillows and a simple duvet. There was a beanbag next to the bed, an addition suggested by Clint - ‘ _everyone needs beanbags, Steve_ ’ - and implemented by Tony - ‘ _the room is Hulk-proof, Cap, we’ll be fine_ ’. Steve thought it was ridiculous, but the room was probably the most secure thing in the world, excluding the Tower, so he wasn’t too worried. 

And then there was Agent. 

It was easy to transport her from SHIELD to the Tower. They had a few days to prepare everything and have traps set in place in case something went awry. Steve knew that Agent feared electrocution more than anything; the first time he saw her truly frightened was when Rollins pressed a stun baton to her lower back and forced her to hold still as he shocked her. She didn’t cry, but her lip bled from biting down on it so hard. That was why most of the traps were electric-based, stuff Tony concocted that Steve couldn’t even begin to understand. 

The guilt Steve felt when the traps were set couldn’t be put into words. He was just thankful that she hadn’t attempted escape to set them off. 

Her unshifting posture put everybody on edge, and they were ready for another Loki situation. Bruce was sent to Clint’s farmhouse in case she wanted to unleash the Hulk, but she didn’t try anything. She couldn’t see out of the glass, but Steve could see in, and he could see how impervious she was about everything, even if she didn’t fully understand what was going on. 

Now, she was sat on the foot of the bed, no more restraints holding her back, wearing socks, sweatpants and a loose shirt. Her fingers were interlaced between her knees, elbows resting on her thighs, and her head was lowered, back hunched. Steve wasn’t sure what to make of her position. He’d seen her more vulnerable than this, but he got the feeling she wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone with her submissive position. He felt that she had genuinely given up. 

Tony explained to Steve that while they could see the Agent through the glass, all she could see was a plain white wall unless Tony told Jarvis otherwise. 

Now, it was just Tony, Clint and Steve sat in the observation room. The observation room was the outer room of where the Agent was staying, and it had monitors on one side, along with an emergency control panel, and a few sofas and chairs spread throughout. 

“When do you think she’ll move?” Clint asked from his place perched on the sofa, observing the woman. 

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged and pushed himself off the wall to stand closer to the glass. The only movement coming from the woman was the rise and fall of her back and she breathed. “It’s probably going to be a while.” He wasn’t going to get his hopes up. The best-case scenario would be that they could actually fix her, but Steve knew it was unlikely. Very unlikely. 

“Okay!” Tony exclaimed, clapping his hands together and swiveling in his chair to face the two men. “I’ve set Jarvis’ protocols for our friendly Hydra agent. You ready? I’m ready. J, start recording and introduce yourself. Protocol Agent.” 

Steve straightened, and saw from the corner of his eye that Clint did the same, sat cross-legged with his back straight. 

“ _Miss, my name is Jarvis_ ,” Steve heard the AI say from inside the room. The woman looked up the ceiling where the speakers were hidden, her expression tilted with caution. “ _I will running the systems in your room, including air conditioning and the TV located in front of you. Should you need anything, simply say my name and I shall be of assistance_.” A brief pause. “ _I will try my best to answer any questions you may have._ ” 

Steve held his breath as the silence dragged on, the Agent still staring up at the roof of her room. 

Tony sighed from his left, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Jarvis--” 

“Who’s observing me?” she asked. 

“Answer her, J,” Tony ordered immediately. 

“ _Currently, Mr. Stark, Mr. Barton and Captain Rogers are observing you, Miss Agent_ ,” Jarvis answered. 

“Captain Rogers,” she echoed in a whisper, hanging her head below her shoulders. Steve’s heart was going crazy, beating so fast that he felt like that little kid in Brooklyn again, nestled under his covers as his heart beat too quickly for him to handle. “He’s the one that took me from Hydra.” 

Steve’s eyes squeezed shut, and he gulped through the guilt settled in his throat. 

“ _I’m sure some would see it that way, Miss Agent_.” 

Steve would have laughed at the absurdity of ‘ _Miss Agent_ ’ if he didn’t feel like he was 3 seconds from having an anxiety attack. 

“They never found out the name I was born with, did they.” Although it was phrased like a question, she said it as a statement. 

“ _I do not believe so, Miss_.” 

She hummed. Steve noticed, right then, that she looked tired. Not exhausted like Steve, but tired, like she has had enough of being dragged around. Steve understood the feeling. 

“Name she was born with?” Clint questioned. 

Steve sighed, the urge to smack his forehead against the glass almost overcoming him. “Her name at Hydra was Agent. They only referred to her as Agent, just like they called Bucky Asset. Apparently, Pierce was the only one who knew her name. Her real one.” 

Clint nodded with a quiet hum, and they lapsed back into silence, watching the woman. She was sitting a little straighter now, head up and staring ahead, a posture Steve noticed she used when around her handlers. He hated it. He hated that she didn’t think he rescued her, but took her away from her home. He couldn’t feel guilty about taking her. He couldn’t. 

“ _Should I play something on the television, Boss?_ ” Jarvis asked Tony. 

“Ask her,” Tony told his AI. “If she doesn’t say anything, play a documentary. Some of the stuff we showed Steve when he first moved in.” Yes, the documentaries Tony picked that had nothing to do with current affairs or America. 40-minute DVD’s about the deep blue sea, or volcanoes. Nothing historical that could send Steve into a triggered panic. It was smart, Steve thought to himself. He wouldn’t have thought of it. 

Jarvis asked her as Tony ordered, and, as Steve held his breath, she didn’t say anything. 

Steve brought a palm to his face and rubbed it over his eyes, nose, mouth, chin, ending with it flat on his chest. 

“I’m,” his voice sounded scratchy, so he swallowed, “I’m gonna go the gym. Give me any updates.” And stormed out the room. 


	3. Chapter 3

Then 

* * *

The assignment was a simple one. Nothing special, or particularly hard. A simple disposal of an ex-Hydra scientist and his family – a husband, wife, and a child. Dr. Elias Fynn. 

He was her primary doctor for a while; the one who would look at particularly bad injuries she gained on missions. She always sensed that something was off with him, the way he constantly asked her questions, made sure she was comfortable when he healed her. It took him longer to attend to her injuries than any other doctor. When she brought her concern up with her handler, he elected to keep a close eye on him. 

The farm he lived in was remote, in the middle of nowhere which was smart as it was difficult to find. But for the target, it meant that there would be no witnesses, and nobody would know they were compromised. 

The target attempted to jump Agent when he saw that his back door was wide open, but he was too late, and she got the drop on him. One swift kick to his temple rendered him unconscious. 

The wife heard the commotion and ran downstairs with a gun, firing several well-aimed shots – one of the bullets grazing her throat – but ultimately, the Hydra-bred woman was quicker. Gripping a small blade from her belt, Agent threw the weapon and it sliced through the woman’s inner wrist. She dropped the gun and screamed, before Agent gripped her ankle and threw her into the wall. She fell to the ground like a rag-doll. 

Agent dragged the pair to the large shed located at the back of the house, next to the field of sheep, and tied them with their hands above their heads to the upper scaffolding. She made sure they were facing each other, several feet away. 

It was a little over 10 minutes later when she decided to wake them - after retrieving something from the house and dragging it into the shed - by shoving cold mud into their mouths. She gagged the wife after she coughed up the mud, spit mixing with the clumps, along with blood from her presumably broken ribs. She was still heavily bleeding from where Agent’s knife embedded in her wrist. 

“Agent?” Elias whispered, eyes wide and wet when he got a look at his captor’s face. “No... No, no...” His voice cracked. 

“You abandoned Hydra,” Agent spoke. She stared straight back at the man, dark eyes meeting his wet green ones. “You know the punishment for breaking your code, Doctor.” 

“This is-isn’t punishment,” he protested, voice weak. His eyes were darting between his wife, who was screaming and sobbing under the gag, and back to Agent continually. “This is injustice. P-Please. Take me back to Hydra. T-Take me back. Don’t. Please. Just me, not Anna. Don’t take her, please. Don’t hurt her.” 

“You know the punishment,” she repeated blankly. 

“P-Please, Agent,” he tried, fists clenched so tightly where the ropes were digging in that she could see his skin turn a deathly white. “You told me I was always kind to you, so you trusted me. You t-trusted me, remember?” He was desperate. “I-I even told you about Anna, ab-about my wife, didn’t I? D-Do you remember that?” 

“I’m not going to kill your wife,” Agent informed him. 

Elias wasn’t stupid, she knew. He didn’t look revealed by the revelation, but rather more fearful. 

The wife’s screams increased in volume when Agent left momentarily to roll in a blanketed stroller, as did Elias’ protests. He was babbling nonsense, crying and yelling for Agent to listen to him, for just a moment. 

She ignored him and removed the blanket, tossing it aside, and... and she stared. 

This wasn’t her mission. 

The cries from behind her blurred, turned into white noise. 

The baby, with its dark complexion and bright green eyes, took her off-guard. Oblivious to what was going on, the year-old child gurgled and smiled, all gums, before reaching out with a chubby arm and flexing its fingers in a grabby motion. 

Slowly, despite the blood dried on her fingers, Agent placed her pointer finger in the baby’s grasp. 

The way it gripped onto her finger like it was a lifeline, the green eyes, smile, the growing curly hair.

From behind her, Elias softly said, “Agent. Please.” 

Agent stepped back, ripping her finger away. “You betrayed Hydra,” she whispered like a prayer. “Traitors breed traitors.” She opened her mouth again but froze, momentarily feeling stuck. “… You should be thankful my mission is to not bring you into Hydra. Your deaths will be swift.” 

“Agent- _Agent_ , please!” 

She ignored his protests, and reached for the gun strapped to her thigh. 

* * *

She felt angry when she was transported back to main base, for reasons she couldn’t explain. The bullet wound on her neck had stopped bleeding, with the help of her quick healing and a bandage that was haphazardly plastered over the injury. Blood covered her hands and stained portions of her gear, some even matted in her hair and buried under her fingernails. She was ordered to make the deaths bloody and violent, which meant that clean-up would be strenuous for the clean-up crew. 

It took several minutes to scrub the dried blood from her skin and hair, and about a half hour to clean her gear. 

With two guards flanking her, she made her way to the communal meeting room where Rumlow and Captain Rogers would be waiting. Rollins was out on a separate assignment; something done deliberately so she could get used to Captain Rogers being her primary handler. 

Rumlow was wearing his loose training gear, slumped back in an armchair with his ankle resting on his knee, while Rogers stood next to the seat, back straight and the image of professionalism. He resembled Rollins, she thought to herself, the picture of narcissism. Although if Rollins were here, he would chastise Rumlow for his posture. 

Rumlow listened to her detailed report with only mild interest, and Rogers was acting stoic, but it was easy to read his discomfort. His eyes fluttered to focus on the ground as she recounted the deaths of the family, but his head shot up at the mention of the infant’s demise. 

“A baby?” he asked, clearly without thinking. He was at Agent with wide eyes. “You killed a baby?” 

“I had orders, Captain,” Agent replied evenly. “I followed them.” 

“What- Can year-old children be eye witnesses?” Rogers near-exclaimed. “Killing an innocent child- You could’ve just dropped them off outside a nearby house, or- or a foster home, or something!” 

Rumlow sat up at that. “It was to teach the target a lesson, _Cap_ ,” he said, spitting out the nickname. “If you have a problem, bitch to Rollins. Agent did as she was ordered, got it?” Pointedly, he relaxed back into his seat. 

“I didn’t think Hydra was about killing innocents,” Rogers went on. 

“You shouldn’t speak to your superiors like that,” Agent intercepted. 

Rumlow’s eyes darted to her. “Agent,” he warned. 

“It’s my priority to ensure that the Hydra order is being followed,” Agent argued, glaring at Rogers. “When that does not happen, I--” 

“ _Agent!_ ” Rumlow yelled, abruptly standing and slamming his hands on the table. 

Agent’s mouth snapped shut, and she flinched at the commanding tone of his voice. When he spoke like that, he could be more intimidating than Rollins. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said quietly, with her head bowed. 

Rumlow turned his eyes to Rogers, whose throat was bobbing with the effort of not talking back. His eyes were furious, and Agent was unsure if it was directed at her or Rumlow. Perhaps both. 

Rumlow moved towards Rogers so there was hardly any space separating them. Despite Rogers being taller, Rumlow still clearly held his dominance as he moved his face close to the man’s. “This is why we don’t fucking argue about orders in front of her,” Rumlow whispered quietly, expecting Agent not to hear, but she could make out his words perfectly, “because it might give her ideas, Cap. Understood?” 

Rogers’ jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue. “Understood,” he echoed. 

“Agent?” 

“Understood, sir.” 

“Great!” Rumlow exclaimed cheerfully, clapping his hands on each of the Captain’s shoulders. “Now we can all get some rest. I want you both up and at ‘em at 0500 hours.” 

* * *

Now 

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Agent’s eyes fluttered open as her ears caught a very gentle tapping sound coming from the wall. She almost couldn't hear it. 

_Tap. Tap._

Groggily, she lifted herself from the bed and stepped closer to the source of noise. 

_Tap. Tap, tap. Tap. Tap._

She was careful with keeping quiet; the floors were tile and it would echo across the room, she knew. 

_Tap. Tap, tap. Tap. Tap._

Yesterday, when she was first transported into her new cell, she could hear very faint voices outside, so she knew the plain white wall was an observation one-way window. She couldn’t distinguish the voices to the person because the cell was supposed to be soundproof – whoever had designed it did a good job – but with her hearing, she could make out mumbles. 

_Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap._

Agent’s eyebrows furrowed as she knelt on the floor next to the wall, where she assumed the person on the other side was. 

The sequence of taps repeated itself after several moments. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap._

_Hello._

Agent’s confusion further escalated. They were speaking to her in Morse code? 

The woman made her own series of taps, translating the question: _You can hear this?_

She waited patiently as whoever was on the other side replied. 

_I feel vibrations. You look sad._

Agent hesitated in replying. _Took me away from home._

_That’s mean._

Agent let her lips lift into a small smile. _Are you allowed to talk?_

She turned her head so her hear was pressed against the glass, waiting for a reply. _Are you allowed to talk?_ she repeated, in case they couldn’t hear it. 

Nothing. 

Agent’s smile dimmed. 

She thunked her head back against the glass, and stared up at the pristine white ceiling, clenching her eyes shut to stop tears from forming. God, she was such an idiot. It was a test- of course it was a test. 

Feeling shame light up in the pit of her belly, she let a quiet breath escape her lips and stood to make her way back to the bed. She laid on her side, above the sheets, facing away from the wall. 

* * *

Apparently, Steve had fallen asleep on the comfortable leather sofa, because he startled awake at the sound of tapping. 

Groggily, he sat up and rubbed his flaky eyes, only to see the metal arm of a robot tapping on the one-way window, right next to where Agent was kneeling. 

“Dum-E!” Steve hissed, eyes popping out of his head as clambered to his feet to roll Tony’s creation away. “No! Bad Dum-E.” 

Dum-E beeped sadly and lowered his claw in shame, before rolling away to his charging station to put himself to sleep. 

Steve blinked. 

Well. Okay, then. 

At least he knew he was doing something bad. 

With something that resembled a sigh of relief, Steve fell back on the sofa and dragged a hand over his face. 

Steve couldn’t hear it, but saw Agent tap her knuckle against the glass. Why the hell was she tapping? 

She paused, as though waiting, and tapped something again. After several moments, she knocked her head back against the glass and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Jarvis?” he asked. 

“ _They were speaking in Morse code, sir_ ,” the AI responded. “ _Dum-E did not reveal any important information. It was a purely innocent conversation._ ” 

Morse code? Huh. 

How did Dum-E even know she was there? Or what she was saying? He had sensors, not cameras. 

He’d have to bring it up with Tony. 

White from the table caught Steve’s eye, and he remembered the file he brought with him. Leaning forward, he plucked it from the table and turned to the first page. 

* * *

Once upon a time, Steve actually enjoyed Rumlow’s company. Even Rollins, at times, but Rollins was too much of the silent-type for him to get along with. He preferred people who could talk and talk for hours, even if it was aimless rambling about nothing. He also liked people he could read, and he could never read Rollins. 

And then Steve found out that Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD. And he lost most of the Strike team with it. 

And then, to add even more fuel to the smoldering fire, Steve found out about Agent. 

Steve had to spend a week reading Agent’s files to basically study for an exam to see if he was eligible to become her handler. He was fine – not fine with the situation whatsoever, but he could handle it. It wasn’t until he witnessed Rollins punish her for the first time, when he felt like the worst man alive. 

She was stripped so she was only wearing pants, feet bare, and Rollins brought out a whip that looked like it belonged in the dark ages. Like a cat o’ nine tails, but with sharp mini-blades instead of hard leather. A bit gag was shoved in her mouth and tied at the back of her head, and Steve distinctly remembers Rollins saying to her, ‘ _Every time you flinch, a shock will go through the gag_ ’. 

Agent didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry. She bled a lot, despite her healing, and there was so much blood on the floor that it pooled close to the toe of Steve’s boot. He managed to stay stoic throughout the punishment, even though it went on for over a half hour, but as soon as Steve was alone, he cried and cried and cried, vomited in the toilet, and continued crying until he passed out on his cot. 

Rumlow knew about Steve’s reaction, even if he never brought it up. Steve just knew he did because of some of the snide comments he would make. _You sure you don’t wanna sit this one out, Cap?_ But it was never said with concern. He was mocking him. 

He knew that he would have to abandon part of his mission to get the woman out of there. He had to. 

Sitting in the observation room now, settled back comfortably on the sofa, Steve flicked through Agent’s file, but found himself staring at the woman more often than he was reading about her. 

The only time Steve had cried working undercover was during the Agent’s first punishment, so, as Clint told him, there was a lot of shit he suppressed. 

Which was why, watching Agent staring up at the ceiling after facing away from him for an hour, a carefully molded expression of blankness on her face, Steve found himself holding back tears. He couldn’t really explain why seeing her like that affected him so much. 

He forced his eyes away from Agent and read through her file instead, rereading the same words he had read dozens of times but not taking it in. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t much in there. Hydra kept her so secret that even Natasha didn’t find out about her when she leaked Hydra’s files. 

“Jarvis, time?” Steve asked after a long stretch of time had passed. 

“ _It is 11 p.m., sir_ ,” the AI responded. “ _I should inform you that Agent appears to be sleeping._ ” 

Steve did a double-take and looked to see that Agent did in fact seem to be sleeping. Her posture was relaxed – at least relaxed in her terms – and her hands were clasped over her stomach, rising and falling in time with her breaths. Steve rubbed the tired from his eyes and shifted on the edge of his seat to look closer; her eyebrows were relaxed over her shut eyes, and her lips were softly parted. 

Steve couldn’t help but stare. He’d never seen her that open or vulnerable before. She’d fallen unconscious after being on the receiving end of a dozen bullets, but she was always so tense. He remembered how it seemed like she was awake with the way she was thrashing and panting, but the whimpers of pain falling from her lips told him she wasn’t conscious. She’d never show weakness like that in front of Hydra operatives. 

“Tony’s worried about you.” 

Steve turned, startled at the voice, and saw Natasha stood to his left, arms crossed as her eyes flickered across the still form of the woman. 

“Tony’s worried?” Steve asked. He shifted over so Natasha could sit next to him on the leather couch. 

“He’s always worried about you, Steve,” the red-head spoke softly, mimicking Steve’s posture of leaning forward with her hands clasped between her knees. She tilted her head to regard him with gentle eyes. “We all worry.” 

Steve smiled, but it felt strained. “You don’t have to.” 

Natasha sighed, not in annoyance, but like she could see straight through his words. “You know Tony threatened Nick while you were gone?” she asked, but she knew the answer. No, Steve did not know that, and he inclined his head towards her to show he was listening. “It was after the 3-month check-in, the only time you saw one of us while you were gone. I told Tony how sad you looked. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” her lips twitched into a smile, “but you were tired. The only time I saw you like that was after you found out about Bucky.” 

Steve swallowed, turning his gaze to the ground. 

“I told Tony,” she continued, “and 20 minutes later, he was yelling down the phone at Nick. He was saying he’d tear down his entire being and jeopardize the mission if he didn’t let you back.” 

“It was a good thing he didn’t,” Steve said. “He had to extend my time, Nat. I couldn’t let her stay and I couldn’t let her go like Bucky.” 

“I’m glad you got her out of there,” Natasha agreed with a nod, and turned her eyes to Agent. She was still sleeping. “She’s gonna hate you, you know?” 

“What?” Steve snapped his head towards the woman. 

Natasha let a long, quiet breath escape her lips. “When Clint rescued me from the Red Room, I hated him,” she said plainly, but quietly. “The first month I was at SHIELD I tried killing him. A lot. It was messy – nothing my Masters and Mistresses would have liked – but I was angry at him. In my mind, he didn’t save me. He took me away from my only home and killed the people who loved me.” 

Steve swallowed and stared back at Agent with a crease between his brows. “When did you know he saved you?” 

“When he showed me that love doesn’t come from pain,” Natasha answered. “Once she figures that out, she’ll know.” 

“She’ll never trust me, Nat.” 

“She’s angry that you broke her trust, Steve,” she pointed out. “Which means there was trust to begin with. And you can build back on that.” 

With another gentle smile, Natasha squeezed Steve’s shoulder and left him alone to his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Then 

* * *

Steve somehow convinced Rumlow that in his free time, he should spend time with Agent. _We need to build a relationship if I want her to be effective_ , Steve had told the man, and he felt bile rise in his throat as he forced the words out. Rollins wasn’t happy about it, but Rollins hated everything Steve did, so he didn’t take it to heart. 

“I don’t understand why this is necessary,” Agent said, glaring at the board sat between them. 

“It’s a strategy game,” Steve explained, tapping the edge of the oak table with the tip of his finger. “Studies show it improves memory, helps with strategic thinking, heightens attention span...” At Agent’s stare, Steve cut himself off, sheepishly rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “Um, I-I read that in an article somewhere. I think.” Or several. To justify why he enjoyed it. 

“Hydra created me to the pinnacle of human perfection,” Agent said. “They have experimented on hundreds of people to see if they could match me in my mental and physical capabilities, and only one person has passed that test. I have been on thousands of missions and have only been compromised on a handful. I have outsmarted you and beaten you in strength a great number of times.” She looked up at Steve. “And you think chess, a game made for children, is going to enhance my cognitive abilities and memory.” 

Wow. 

“Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds silly,” Steve said, ” _but_ it can help with focus. What do you usually do before a mission, to help you stay focused?” 

“I read through the mission report,” Agent answered. 

“But that doesn’t--” Steve started, and then promptly cut himself off. She doesn’t like frustration, he told himself. “Have you ever tried something that,” he made a sliding motion with hands, “keeps you calm.” 

“Yes,” she replied with a nod. “I read through mission reports.” 

“But that’s what we tell you to do,” Steve said. “What about what you want? What do you like?” 

“I want.” Agent stopped herself, a strange expression flickering across her face. Steve waited silently, knowing that Hydra burned those words out of her years ago, forcing her to rely on the orders of others rather than her own. “I...” she tried again, but was stuck, breath catching in her throat. “I don’t. I don’t know.” Her eyes jerked towards his, and Steve couldn’t help but inhale when he saw her eyes were wet. Not quite teary-eyed, but she looked... scared. 

That wasn’t what he wanted. 

“It’s okay,” Steve reassured softly, folding his arms on the table. He leaned forward, tilting his head down to catch her eye again. “I wasn’t trying to catch you out.” He gently smiled at her, but the woman was still staring at him like he was. “I swear it. I just... I don’t know. I wanted to know, I guess.” 

Agent’s lips parted and the fear disappeared from her gaze. “You’re a strange handler,” she commented. 

“I prefer different,” Steve retorted. 

Agent smiled a small smile; more of a lip quirk really, that oddly resembled Natasha’s. Steve suppressed the feeling of emptiness thinking about his friend, pushing away the thoughts before they could develop. 

Agent shot up abruptly, knocking the table and startling Steve in the process. Some of the chess pieces fell over, and Steve watched the Queen roll around in circles a few times, hovering over the edge of the board, before a voice snapped him out of it. 

“Agent,” a gruff, irritable voice spoke. “Captain Rogers.” 

Steve inclined his head towards the voice, but didn’t stand like Agent. “Rollins,” he greeted, mood dimming. “I hope the day has been treating you well.” 

“I’m not here for pleasantries,” Rollins said. “I’m here to collect Agent for her punishment.” 

_Punishment_ , Steve thought bitterly. Punishment for not inflicting enough collateral damage that would gain the Avengers attention. Of course, the Avengers knew not to fall for the bait due to Steve’s reports, and because they didn’t gain their attention, Agent would get punished. That was on Steve, not her. 

“That’s not for another hour,” Steve bit out. 

“Rumlow wants it done earlier,” Rollins explained, and not kindly. “She has a mission tomorrow, Captain. And as far as I’m aware, I still have authority over you.” 

_But Rumlow likes me better_ , Steve wanted to say. 

“Agent,” Steve spoke, ripping his eyes away from Rollins. He gestured for her to come to him – feeling like the biggest asshole as he did it – and she leaned down so he could whisper in her ear. "Come see me after punishment." She moved away and nodded. 

Rollins left with Agent on his tail, and Steve didn’t miss the glimmer of smug satisfaction that marred his face before he disappeared. 

_Idiot_. Steve bit his lip, resisting pushing the heel of his palm into his eyes. _You’re an idiot, Rogers._

Steve happened to glance over the desk, and saw that the Queen piece had fallen, somehow landing upright on the coarse carpet. 

* * *

Now 

* * *

“Steve?” 

Steve resisted groaning, keeping his eyes closed despite the sudden rush of light that bled through his eyelids. 

“Steven?” 

_No_. 

“Stephanie?” 

_Nope_. 

“Cap? Captain?” 

_Please. No_... 

“Capsicle?” 

Steve held back a wince. 

“C’mon, you always react to Capsicle.” 

_Not today._

“Capsicle. Capsicle, Capsicle, Capsicle, _Capsicle_.” 

“Capsicle is trying to sleep, Tony,” Steve mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the now flashing light. Stupid Stark. 

“Wow, I can’t believe the great Steve Rogers is referring to himself in third-person,” Tony commented with a hum. “You’re turning into post-Nefaria Clint. Remember Count Nefaria? Vampire dude. Clint gave the final blow and kept referring to himself as ‘ _Clint the Vampire Slayer_ ’ for weeks, and-” 

“Yes, Tony, I do remember,” Steve grumbled in irritation. “It was a good shot and he deserved that victory. Now, let Captain America go back to sleep.” 

“Sure, darling,” Tony said lightly. “Of course. Anything for you, Mr. Rogers. The light of my life. Just thought you’d want to know about some leaked files that might relate to our Joan of Arc over there. Guess I’ll just discuss it with someone else-" 

Steve bolted up in an instant, feeling his eyes burn from the bright light, which Steve quickly deducted was a torch being held by Clint, who was perched on the arm of the sofa where Steve’s feet rest. 

“Turn it off, Barton,” Steve ordered groggily. Clint clicked the torch off and leaned over to place it on the table – not once betraying his position. They called him Hawkeye for a reason, and not purely because of his good eye. “You’re not offended about the Nefaria comment?” 

“I don’t regret a thing.” Clint shrugged. 

Steve shifted so he was sat on the sofa, feet flat against the floor, and looked over Tony’s shoulder to where Agent was. She was no longer sleeping, sat on the side of the bed with her legs crossed, her back to the one-way window. A nature documentary was playing on the TV, but she wasn’t watching it. 

“I asked J to put it on when I checked in an hour ago,” Tony explained. “She asked him to mute it, but not turn it off. Guess she likes the lights.” 

“I can’t leave--” 

“I’ll keep watch,” Clint interjected, eyes firm as he looked at Steve. Despite his general dorkiness, he could often be as intimidating and stubborn as Natasha. “She doesn’t know you’re here and she won’t know you’re gone, Steve.” 

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, and reached over to clasp a hand on Clint’s shoulder, squeezing a little. “Thank you, Clint.” 

“No probs, dude.” Clint flashed a peace sign. “Try to sleep in a bed, too, while you’re at it.” 

No, he won’t. 

“Yes, I will,” Steve said, but everyone in that room knew it was a blatant lie. “Tell Jarvis-” 

“Rogers,” Tony started, “I will drag you out by your ridiculously perfect ear if you don’t shift your ass-” 

Steve waved a hand and moved to stand. “Yeah, yeah.” 

“I may not be as strong as you, but I’m determined.” 

“I know, Tony. Jesus. I’m getting up.” He stretched his arms over his head and forced down a yawn. “You sure you wanna do this, Clint?” 

“It’s not like I have to fight her. Even I'm not that dumb,” Clint said, plopping down from his perched position to sit cross-legged on the sofa; similarly to Agent. “Go have your super-secret meeting, Stephanie.” He shot Steve a wide grin. 

Steve nodded, and thanked the man before leaving with Tony following behind him. 

* * *

She didn’t know there was a bathroom until Jarvis pointed it out to her. The door was hidden. Why was the door hidden? She assumed it was so she couldn’t get to any form of weapon, but after a thorough search, there was nothing she could use effectively. Even the cupboard’s door was taken off its hinges, and there was no toilet seat to speak of. 

Whoever put it together knew what she was capable of, then. No doubt the Captain informed them. 

Yet they gave her paperback books.

Jarvis asked her if she wanted to watch anything. She said he could choose, so he picked out another nature documentary – this one about volcanic islands. She had watched a few of the sort during her time at Hydra, back when there was a recreational room, but those were mostly about animals. The AI put the TV on mute, for a reason she couldn’t figure out. 

A while back, Agent had sat on the floor by the glass and tapped on it, hoping that the person from before would be back. She pressed her temple against the cool glass to listen out for anything, but there was nothing. 

She felt ridiculous, so after an hour, she sat on the bed, facing away from the plain wall where they were watching her. 

She wondered if the Captain was there. It would be easy enough to lure him in; he was strong, but gullible and naïve. If he saw that somebody was in danger, he’d be the first person there to help them. She could easily mimic having an attack, since Rogers knew how badly they affected her. She could injure herself. Head wounds bled worse than regular wounds, so finding a way to inflict a head injury would likely work in her favour. Even if she ended up badly hurt, they’d have to drag her out for medical attention. She could make her move then."

“You know, the books are there for a reason.” 

Agent’s head snapped up. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the same voice spoke. “I’m Clint. Barton. You probably know me.” 

Clint Barton. Alias, Hawkeye. He was watching her from the observation room. “You’re an Avenger,” she said. “You’re from SHIELD. Of course Hydra knows about you.” 

“Knows, not knew, huh?” Barton said amusedly. “I know you live by Hydra’s slogan and everything, but Hydra is definitely no more. Don’t want to instill any false hope into you.” 

“As long as I’m still breathing, Hydra is alive,” she spoke. “As long as the Soldier is still breathing, Hydra is still alive. Destroying a few compounds and killing a few people isn’t going to change that.” 

"Yeah, but we kinda destroyed all the compounds and killed most the people," Clint said.

Agent perked up at that. "Most?"

"Classified," he retorted quickly. Agent knew he wasn't stupid enough to slip up like that, accidentally tell a prisoner a very crucial piece of evidence. He was testing her, then, but for what? To see if she would attempt an escape, lead them to where the living could be... That was the likely case. Hydra agents knew the layout of the compounds far more than any Avenger could, no matter how advanced their technology might be. 

Still, that could mean Rollins was alive.

"The Soldier is still alive, right?" the man continued.

Agent's lip quirked into a tilted, forced smile. "You know Captain America would rather die before killing him," she answered bitterly. "But he won't be found. I think you know he's the type that won't be found unless he wants to be, and you can guess what he wants." Her lips tightened. "No, he's not dead, but he is to everybody that isn't him - Hydra taught us how to disappear so even they couldn't find us. He doesn't want to be found, Barton, so you might as well give up before you start." Agent swallowed, lowering her gaze. "He left months ago. He's a ghost story."

_He left me._

"Jarvis, can you play the audio from the TV?" Agent asked the AI quietly.

" _Of course, Miss Agent_ ," Jarvis answered, and the audio from the documentary played. The voice of the man commentating over nature was oddly soothing, and it was easy for her to concentrate on that rather than everything else.

Apparently, Barton took that as his cue to stop talking because he stayed quiet as she sat on the bed, back against the wall. 

When the third documentary began, Agent asked who was observing her.

" _Mr. Barton is the only one present and is watching the television with you, Miss Agent_ ," Jarvis let her know. " _He has ordered I play Robin Hood once this documentary is over. Would you like that, Miss?_ "

Agent simply shrugged and brought her her knees up to her chest, cheek resting on her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're seriously triggered by rape, this is where I highly recommend to stop reading this story. There are explicit mentions of it during this chapter, all past-tense, and I won't be giving any warnings from here on out because it will be brought up quite frequently as it's a big part of the story and Agent.
> 
> If you stick around, I hope you enjoy!

Then 

* * *

“Concentrate, Agent.” 

Wiping the blood that dripped down her lip on the back of her hand, the woman’s eyes narrowed at the man’s jesting smile. 

Her spine twisted as she ducked out of the way of the Captain’s kick, balancing herself on her hand and swiftly pushing herself off the ground. She used the momentum to land a solid punch beneath her opponent’s ribs. He doubled over, but blocked the other punch aimed for his chest with his forearm, swinging her limb out of the way to throw his head forward. She barely missed the headbutt – she felt the air from his movement flutter over her skin, but she dodged just in time. 

Agent spun and kicked the man in the stomach, sending him stumbling back, but he didn’t lose his balance like she hoped. Instead, he was several steps away from the guarded woman, suddenly still as he watched her, lips parted as light breaths escaped him. His eyes were focused on hers, shoulders tense, which betrayed his expression. 

It was a look she had seen before. Hesitation. Sadness. Like he didn’t want to train with her, let alone hurt her. 

That was what made her previous handlers so weak. They had to learn. 

Eyes narrowed, Agent sharply exhaled a breath of air, and charged at the Captain. She kicked, he blocked, she feigned a hit, he blocked it, she spun and kicked him hard in the chest– hard enough to send him flying into the closest wall. 

The wall didn’t break under his weight, but the crack she heard as he made contact was enough to even make her flinch. 

“Looks like you won this one,” Rogers groaned, using the wall as leverage to stand. He was breathing heavily through the pain. “Good sparring, Agent.” 

She nodded, her eyes darting to the door momentarily before they fixated back on him. “Injury report?” she asked quietly, feeling her hands shake from where they were clasped behind her back. 

“Nothing’s broken,” he answered, and scratched at the stubble growing on his jaw. 

“I’ll go report to Rollins.” 

“No!” Rogers exclaimed. It made Agent freeze in her step; shoulders hunched. “I-I mean, no. Um, you're- you’ll be punished, right?” Agent tilted her head with a frown. “Rollins usually, uh... punishes you after you beat me in these sessions.” 

Captain Rogers was softer than her previous handlers. It was easy for anybody to see that he was not comfortable watching punishments, but it was inevitable Rollins would force him to do it eventually. Rumlow told Agent that he needed to get through the initial barrier of reluctance, then he would be more efficient. 

“What Rollins does after our sessions is not punishment, Captain,” Agent explained levelly. “You’re aware that Hydra agents are required to go through hourly tortures a month to ensure their dedication to Hydra. They must do the same to me, only more frequently.” 

“But- they-” Rogers seemed to be at a loss, shoulders slumped and eyes sad. Agent’s fingers tightened around her arm, blunt fingernails digging into her skin. 

“Physical pain means nothing to me, Captain, and torture is ineffective,” she said. “They know which methods best ensure my compliance, as they do with each agent here. Sex and electrocution are two of those methods.” 

Agent was unsure of what triggered a change in Rogers, but suddenly he looked angry. His lips turned up into a snarl, jaw clenched and fists balled up like he wanted to turn around and punch the wall he was thrown against. Agent wanted to look away, to leave. 

“May I go report to Rollins?” 

Rogers closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. He didn’t look at Agent, eyes fixated somewhere on the wall to his right. “No,” he answered. “No. I’m going to talk to Rumlow and we can train in the communal area. Maybe play some chess.” He tried for a smile, but it was tight. “I think a break would be nice. Don’t you.” 

He walked out of the room without another word, and Agent followed, slightly confused. 

* * *

_07.19.91_

_It is times like these that I regret working for this organization. I know that merely thinking these words can result in death, but I do not think they will ever find this journal. Should they find it and kill me, at least I know I died with my humanity intact._

_Agent has been on my mind constantly since we were introduced. She seems to trust me, even if she is a little wary, although she is like that with everybody she comes into contact with. She informed me of the name that was given to her at birth, so I count that as a positive. I will be referring to her as her as Rose from now on, because ‘Agent’ seems too inanimate. A part of me wishes to form an escape plan to get her out of here, but even if I succeed, she would not last in a world outside of Hydra. I know not of her history, but I have heard rumours that she has been here for as long as the Soldier._

_She smiled today. I made some silly joke, whispered it so fellow operatives would not hear, and I saw her lip twitch. Perhaps my mind is merely playing tricks on me, or I want to see the human side of her so badly that I am imagining her happiness. I know she is not happy where she is. Whenever her handler’s back is turned, her façade cracks and she looks lost and sad, like a child._

_12.20.91_

_Rose defended Soldier today, which surprised everybody including myself. Recently, Karpov has decided to have Rose watch over Soldier as she is more experienced, whenever he is out of cryogenic, and trains him. He came from a mission a couple of days ago, claiming that he knew one of the targets. Karpov ordered Soldier to be wiped for a second time and Rose said that he would simply forget once put in cryogenic. Karpov made the order anyway and Rose reacted by throwing him at the wall by his throat. He ended up with several broken ribs and a shattered collarbone._

_Rayne was restrained with electrodes attached to her temples, inner wrists and thighs, and she was continuously electrocuted for 30 minutes. I wanted to shut off the machine, but I know it would only end worse for both of us._

_May God understand and forgive my actions._

_29.03.92_

_It has taken me 3 days to muster the courage to write again. I have been unable to sleep for those days, and when I do succumb to unconsciousness, I’m plagued by the images I was forced to witness. Every time I eat, I simply throw it back up. I am reminded of my wife each time I see Rose, and seeing them have their way with her made me sick to my stomach._

_Rose failed a mission and was forced upon by her handler and several other men. I have never seen Rose cry the way she did, and when I later assessed her for damage – as the scientists were ordered to let her stew in her own blood and fluids for a couple of hours – she clutched onto me and trembled in my arms. The temptation to escape with her in that moment was almost too much, but I knew it would be an impossible task with her condition. She heals quick, but I can only imagine her pain._

_I pray to God every day that one day she will leave this wretched place, even if I will not be there to see it._

* * *

Steve, sat at the head of the meeting room’s table with Tony to his left, rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes, shutting the leather-bound notebook Tony set in front of him a few minutes ago. 

“I...” Steve started, and immediately cut himself off, shaking his head with a wince. “God, Tony. I thought it was just Rollins- I didn’t...” For each breath he exhaled, the need to cry grew heavier and heavier. “Years, Tony. _Decades_.” His head hung between his shoulders. “And I knew it was happening, I knew how much it hurt her. I didn’t even try to stop it, I couldn’t.” 

“Exactly; you couldn’t,” Tony echoed, sounding as weary as Steve felt. “It’s a horrible thing, but if you stopped it, you would’ve been compromised. She’d still be in there being raped and tortured if it wasn’t for you.” Steve flinched at _rape_ , and felt Tony’s hand rest itself on his shoulder in response. “Lord knows Fury wouldn’t have done anything if you weren’t his Golden Boy.” He tapped his fingers against Steve shoulders, eyes furrowed contemplatively. “Well, at least we’ve got a name that isn’t Agent.” 

Steve managed a small smile, but it fell flat. Rose didn’t fit her whatsoever. The deathly assassin who was more dangerous than the Winter Soldier, and her name was _Rose_. Although, he supposed, James wasn’t a particularly threatening name for an assassin, either. But Rose was... a soft name. Steve rarely saw the soft side of her, and even when he did it was only through little moments like her asking him if he was injured, or the moments she defended him against Rumlow. 

And now she would probably kill him as soon as she got the chance. 

“What about Bucky?” Steve murmured. “Any leads?” 

“Still got cameras all over the world looking for him,” Tony answered. “The guy who wrote this journal signed it _A._ _Rybakov,_ so Jarvis is narrowing down anyone who could’ve possibly worked at Hydra with that name in the 90s. Nat leaking everything about Hydra is gonna give us a head start on that.” Steve looked up and Tony gave him a half-smile. “If he’s still alive, we think Barnes might be hiding out there with this guy. He’s talked about quite a lot in later entries.” 

“You’ve read it all?” 

“Yes.” Tony nodded, squeezing the man’s soldier. “But you read it at your own pace, in your own time. Goes from ‘91 to ‘02. Some of it is... a lot.” 

“God, Tony, I’m so sorry.” Steve grimaced and put his head in his hands. “He wrote about your parents... Gosh, I didn’t even think. I was too busy wallowing. I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey,” Tony spoke firmly now, fingers tightening on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself. You’re allowed to feel this way, Cap, and I wouldn’t have brought it up if you hadn’t noticed, or been angry at you. Not because I know you’d feel bad, but because there’s no point. Okay?” He smoothed his hand over Steve’s shirt. “I'd never expect you to help me deal with my parents, Steve,” _because my best friend killed them_ , “and I wouldn’t expect the same from you. I know- I know Howard was your friend, and... well, I got the shittier end of the deal, but it still sucks.” 

Steve didn’t want to tell Tony that he didn’t talk about himself like that, not to anyone. Sometimes Nat, more often Sam, but those moments were rare. And with being gone for 5 months to be an uncover agent for Hydra; well, he couldn’t exactly confide in Rumlow about what was happening. He’d had little moments with Agent- with Rose, but that seemed to be more her reading him than anything else. She could always sense his discomfort, his anger, his ease. A part of him wished he could go back to those moments and try and push, just a little bit, to see how she would react if he tried to open up to her. It wasn’t not like it would’ve made a difference, given how she felt about him now. 

“What happened to him?" Steve asked, nodding towards to the notebook. 

“The last entry talks about how he hopes someone finds it, the journal,” Tony answered. ”So they can help the people hurt by Hydra. Didn’t seem like a suicide note or anything, but I think he left.” 

“Leave?" Steve echoed with a short chuckle. “Can anyone leave Hydra?” 

“You did, big guy,” Tony said with a soft smile, and Steve couldn’t help but return it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a depressing one, but hey we have a name!I've had Rose as her name in my head before I even started writing this, I can't explain why but I think it fits her, despite what Steve says. 
> 
> Let me know if you like the journal entries so I know if I should include more in the future!


End file.
